132 years later
by Desert Starvine
Summary: After Sauron has been defeated, a group called Sauron's chosen rises from the ashes, determined to uphold his dark legacy.  When Siskiyou is rescued from orcs by a mysterious elf, she finds herself thrown into epic adventure.
1. Escape

When I finally dared to open my eyes, I found it difficult not to scream. My peaceful home would never be the same for me. In that moment, I felt as if I would never be able to see anything but the broken pillars, the black arrows, and the bodies stained with blood. I myself lay in a slowly growing puddle of my own blood, which had begun to turn my long, dark hair a sickly shade of red. My dress was torn and I could see through the ripped fabric the deep gash in my shoulder. The unthinkable had finally happened- they had attacked Rivendell.

They called themselves "Sauron's Chosen". Of course, everyone knows that Sauron died over 100 years ago, when Frodo the hobbit threw the ring into Mount Doom- but Sauron's chosen don't believe that. They think that Sauron's spirit still lingers, and so they do their awful deeds 'in the name of Sauron.' This group is a gathering of orcs, trolls, goblins, and all sorts of other unsavory creatures. But worst of all, it includes men, and even elves. I think they must be deranged to join such a group. No one knows why they do it. Some people think they are mad. I've heard many tales of a fearsome leader, but he is always wreathed in shadow and mystery.

There have been many attacks on places other than Rivendell, but none quite so devastating as this. No one had expected it- we hadn't been prepared. One moment all was peaceful, and the next my beautiful home was swarming with orcs, it's loveliness and purity forever soiled by the footsteps of the orcs. I ran. But the orcs were all around me, and the last thing I felt before I fainted was a stab of pain in my shoulder.

I guess the orcs must have thought I was dead, because other then the wound in my shoulder, I was unharmed. If the elves had succeeded in defending Rivendell, I might yet live. But I doubted that, and when the orcs came to dispose of the bodies, they would kill me. Suddenly I heard a voice, right above my head, and I could smell the pungent scent of an orc. "I think this one's still alive." The other orc grunted- there must have been two of them- and I felt a sharp kick in my back. I let out a gasp of pain. There was the sound of a sword being drawn. I closed my eyes, waiting for the end.

Then the orc spoke again- but not to his companion. He was speaking to someone else. I couldn't hear what he was saying through his thick accent, but I heard more footsteps- light and graceful this time, sounding more elven than anything else. There was a startled kind of gurgle from the first orc, and I heard the thud of a body hitting the floor. I could hear the rapid, heavy footsteps of the second orc running away, but they stopped abruptly. Another thud. I opened my eyes. A tall elf, wearing the tunic of Sauron's chosen, stood before me. Stretching out his hand, he said two words- "Get up." I knew that if I stayed there much longer, I would die. Even though the elf was probably going to kill me, I was going to die anyway. So I forced myself to ignore my wound, telling myself that it was only a minor one, and sat up. Having no other option, I took his hand and stood up, albeit with some difficulty from my wound.

He pulled me over to an alcove, and whispered in my ear. "Do exactly what I say, don't make a noise, and follow me. No one can know we're here." He peered around the corner, looking for danger. Suddenly, I heard the heavy breathing of an orc, coming from the opposite side of the alcove that the other elf was looking out of. Leaning out a bit, I could just see a hideous orc, prowling menacingly in our direction. It stopped every few steps to sniff the air, as if it were searching for something... or someone. I tapped the elf on the shoulder and pointed slowly to the orc. He put his finger over his lips, indicating that I should be silent. He pressed closer against the wall of the alcove, and I did the same, trying to dissapear into the shadows. The elf extended his arm across me, pulling his dark cloak over my bright dress and making me appear as a just particularly dark shadow to the casual observer. I held my breath as the orc passed by the alcove. It stopped for a moment, sniffed, and was just starting to turn towards us when it fell, an arrow protruding from it's chest. The elf calmly put his bow back in his quiver, retrieved the arrow from the orc's body, and crept silently farther into the hallway, keeping to the shadows. I followed him, keeping my footsteps as quiet as possible.

As we rounded another corner, I heard orc voices again. Since we hadn't seen any for a while now, the elf had taken less precautions and we had gravitated towards the middle of the hall. I could see the orcs, and they had seen us. Several of them took out bows and arrows and aimed. We were sitting ducks, standing in the middle of an open hallway. I stood there, frozen, for a moment, and probably would have been shot if the elf hadn't shoved me out of the way, slamming me against the wall as an arrow whizzed by my ear. I felt the impact in my shoulder, and slid to the ground, dizzy from blood loss. The elf grabbed my hand and dragged me back around the corner, then ran back into the hallway to fend off the orcs. I ripped off a strip of fabric from my dress and tried to staunch the bleeding, being only partially successful. Using a statue of some long-forgotten elven warrior, I then pulled myself to my feet. I could hear screams and the sounds of swords clashing from around the corner. Determined to protect the elf who had saved my life, I picked up a piece of stone from the statue- it had evidently been broken off during the battle- and rounded the corner.

There were still two orcs left out of the original five, and the elf was managing to fend them off pretty well with two long daggers. Finally, he managed to strike one of them, who fell off to the side. I started to retreat back into the other hallway, but I tripped over the hem of my dress, falling backwards. My injured shoulder now hurt even more, and as I struggled to stand up, the orc that the elf had striked earlier did, too. It now crept up behind the elf, brandishing an evil- looking dagger. He was still fighting the other orc, and had no idea of his impending peril. I screamed, trying to warn him, but it was no use. I couldn't stand, but the rock I had taken from the statue was just close enough for me to grab. I threw it in desperation, doing the only thing I could. It hit the orc squarely in the back of the head, knocking him to the ground just before his dagger made contact with the elf. A few moments later, the elf thrust his dagger through the orc's chest and turned around to face me. "Well done," he said, striding towards me. He pulled me up and we headed off, being careful to stick to the shadows.

Luckily, we didn't run into any more orcs as we crept along the deserted hallways. Once or twice we had to hide in an alcove as orc sentries passed by, but there were no confrontations. Finally, the elf lifted up a tapestry, revealing a dank tunnel. I'd discovered this passage some years ago, and often used it to get out into the forest. It's not like I couldn't have used the normal exits, but I liked being alone and there were usually a few elves who frequented the woods around the other doors. This led to a different section of the forest. I had to duck to get through the passage,and could hear the dripping of water around me. I almost fell once on the slick, wet floor, but the elf caught my arm just in time. The passage sloped down steeply, and we had to climb back up a flight of stairs to reach the surface. When we came into the open, the elf looked around, checking for enemies, then set off at a brisk pace into the forest. I followed behind him.


	2. The Prophecy

As we walked, question upon question swirled through my head. We'd walked into the forest and away from the orc encampment that was once Rivendell. We must have walked several leagues already, as I could no longer hear or smell any trace of the orcs. The elf hadn't said a word since we exited Rivendell. Why was he leading me away from the orcs? If he was indeed one of Sauron's chosen, as his tunic suggested, then we should be heading in the other direction so that the orcs could kill me. Why had he attacked the orc who was going to murder me? The whole situation greatly puzzled me, but quite frankly, I was glad just to be alive.

Although I was still mystified with my situation, my thoughts began to shift from my situation to the pain in my shoulder. My dress was getting redder by the minute, and I knew that I couldn't keep walking much longer. I finally stopped walking. "I can't keep going any longer.", I said. The elf turned around. I looked at him closely for the first time. He had long, dark hair and hazel eyes, with a fine, sensitive face. He was tall and lean, like most elves, and he carried no wounds from the recent battle. The elf, whatever his name was, stared at me for a moment like I was crazy.

"We can't. They'll find us." He hesitated, looking at the wound on my shoulder, then at the sky, and spoke again. "Well, maybe we should stop here for the night. It's almost dusk, and your wound does look pretty bad. You sit here, and I'll go find a good place to camp." With that, he headed off into the woods, leaving me sitting in the middle of the forest.

It occurred to me then that if he decided to leave me here, I would probably die. I couldn't travel farther with my wound- I was close to fainting already- and there was no food or water in sight. The only things I had brought with me from Rivendell was what I had on my person. There wasn't even a path where we had been walking- all I knew was that we were headed in the general direction of the misty mountains. I took in several deep breaths and lay down on the carpet of fallen leaves that covered the forest floor. It was almost winter, and the trees were mostly devoid of leaves. I knew that I couldn't let myself panic, or I would lose my senses and wander off into the trees, never to return. As these dismal thoughts were going through my head, exhaustion took over and I fell into a deep slumber.

When I awoke, it was dark all around me, except for the flickering light of a fire. The scent of some kind of soup drifted towards me, making my mouth water. Someone had draped a blanket over me. I sat up and saw that we were under a rock outcropping that jutted up from the forest floor. Various shrubberies had grown up around the sides of the rock, making a sort of small cave inside. The elf was sitting next to the fire, which was crackling merrily, and stirring a pot full of soup above the fire. He turned around and looked at me, then said- somewhat sulkily- "You finally woke up. I couldn't seem to wake you, so I had to carry you here. Dinner's ready- it's just some soup- so if you're ready, come and eat."

"Thanks. It smells delicious," I said, scooting closer to the fire. Despite his attitude, I decided to be as polite as possible- he had saved my life, after all. "My name's Siskiyou. What's yours?"

He ladled some soup into a cup, then said, "It's Dasalain."

I took a sip of the soup. It was very good, with hunks of deer meat and potatoes floating in a salty, spicy liquid. "I have a few questions. Why are we leaving Rivendell? Why didn't you kill me? Why did you attack the orcs? Why-" He interrupted me before I could say more.

"I guess I have a lot of explaining to do. I'll try to make it brief, since we still have to bandage your wound. I joined Sauron's Chosen because I was forced to. I know, I shouldn't have, but I was scared and I was much younger. They were threatening to kill my sister, and I couldn't bear the thought of never seeing her again, so I agreed, foolishly, and was accepted into their ranks. A few years in, I couldn't take any more of the beatings and the killings, so I decided to find a way to get back at Sauron's Chosen, since I knew they'd kill both me and my sister if I tried to just leave. They probably think I'm dead right now, and that ruse will fool them for a while, but they'll come after us sooner or later.

You probably don't know, but Sauron's Chosen is almost like a religion. They worship Sauron and have their own prophecies and such. Of course, all those prophecies are probably stuff and nonsense, but Sauron's Chosen shape their lives around them. Their main prophecy goes like this:

_Once blood has been sown,_

_The sword will have grown,_

_The mighty sword,_

_And the bindings of rope and cord,_

_Will bring the elf to rest._

_She will be the one to welcome our mighty guest._

_Brown chestnut hair,_

_Skin white and fair,_

_Eyes bluer than the sea,_

_None is fairer than she._

_Upon her hand_

_Is the rose from another land._

_Let her blood run_

_To our master, the sun_

_A doorway it will open_

_Our master can come through, then_

_He will rule the land_

_With the grace of his mighty hand_

The master, of course is Sauron. This mystery elf is the key to bringing back Sauron- at least that's what they believe. They think that her blood will open a doorway into death, and Sauron will come through. Of course, I don't believe in any of it, but they do. This is the very reason they attacked Rivendell- to find the elf, who their spies apparently saw in Rivendell. I figured that if I stopped the elf from being killed, it would cause serious damage to the courage of their troops. They'd probably stop raiding villages to find the elf. If she fell into enemy hands, they would never be able to revive Sauron. After making sure that they saw the elf, and knew that she was in Rivendell at the time of the battle, I saved her. When they go through the bodies and find no elf with a 'rose from another land' on her hand, they'd know that she'd escaped.

What I'm trying to tell you is that.. well... Siskiyou, you are the elf in the prophecy."

I sat there for a moment, stunned. The description of the elf in the prophecy fit me perfectly, all the way down to the circular scarlet birthmark on the back of my left hand. Dasalain's words had the ring of truth to them, and I knew that there was no avoiding it- I was being hunted by Sauron's Chosen, and they would not stop until they had spilled every last drop of my blood.


	3. Night Silence

It was a few minutes before I realized that I had spilled my soup. Dasalain was shaking my shoulder, evidently trying to get me out of the strange half- trance I was in. I think it was mainly from shock. I sat up, righted my soup bowl, and pushed Dasalain's hand away. "I'm fine. You just shocked me a bit, that's all." I'd never been in real danger before, growing up in the sheltered Rivendell. Although most of the elves had sailed to Valinor, several of us had stayed to watch over the humans and to maintain places like Rivendell, where the elves had lived for countless years. Sauron's Chosen was a problem, but it was the age of men, and so we had decided to advise them, and try not to get too involved. There had even been a few confrontations in which elves were involved, but I never left the safety of Rivendell, except on the occasional trip to visit elves in other parts of Middle Earth. So when it came to danger, adventure, and acts of derring- do, I had woefully little experience.

Dasalain dropped his head, looking at the ground ashamedly. "I guess I shouldn't have told you that all at once. I..I..I'm sorry," he mumbled. Obviously he wasn't used to apologizing to people.

I felt sorry for him. With all his experience in battle, he'd probably witnessed many appalling things, and had no idea that I'd take the bad news so hard. "It's fine." I sighed. Although I was still shaken by the knowledge I had just received, I couldn't let that hinder me. I'd have to just accept it and move on- not a course of action that occurred naturally to me. If we were back in Rivendell, I probably would have moped about it for weeks, and wept a great deal upon hearing about it. But we weren't back in Rivendell, and I had to deal with things differently. "Let's just bandage my wound before it gets infected," I said resignedly. I wanted to cry, to scream, but I couldn't.

He nodded wordlessly, then started rummaging around in his pack, looking for the proper supplies. He pulled out a few crumpled strips of fabric, a bottle of some strange greenish- yellow liquid, a small bowl, some more fabric, and then a mid-size drawstring bag. He then filled the bowl with the liquid and dropped some fabric in to soak. I stared inquisitively at the equipment. "It's something of my own making,"Dasalain explained. "The liquid is just some apple juice with a few extra herbs added. It helps wounds close up faster." He let the rags soak for a bit longer, then walked around the fire to sit down beside me. With some of the extra fabric, he wiped the blood off my wound, and then wrapped the damp rags around it. His hands were surprisingly gentle, and my wound barely stung as he wrapped it in the cloth. Dasalain then handed me the drawstring bag. "When we were raiding Rivendell, I picked these up. I figured you'd need some more appropriate clothes for traveling." Looking at my dress, he said, "You look awful in those bloodstained rags you're wearing now." Then he smiled. It was more like a sneer, the corners of his mouth just twitching up a bit around the ends. I stared at him indignantly. He was making fun of me! I bit back the sharp retort that had been forming on my tongue and stalked off into the forest.

I crept away from camp and into the darkness of the forest to change into the clothes Dasalain had given me. Every footfall I made seemed to make the sound of a giant crashing through the silent forest. Through the trees I could just barely see the moon, so bright it cast shadows on the ground. Of course, most of the wood was mainly thrown into shadow, but I didn't mind. Unlike many elves, I had always enjoyed the dark. It was more subtle and mysterious than daylight, and I liked staring up at the stars in all their ineffability. I walked perhaps farther than I needed to from camp, for I liked the crisp night air and the silence of the forest. It was a friendly silence, not oppressive and moody like so many silences are. Sometimes I think that within each silence is a spirit, having a personality and feelings of its own. That's why I like silence- it doesn't judge, it doesn't mock me, it doesn't talk with me, but it's always there for me and whatever I say, it'll listen.

I finally stopped some way away from camp and pulled the objects out of the bag. They obviously had belonged to a female elf in Rivendell, for the garments were of some fine, silky material, and embroidered with delicate flowers. There was a leaf- green fitted tunic that came down to my knees with long, flowing sleeves , a pair of tight- fitting brown leggings, and leather boots that came to my mid- calves. The clothes were comfortable and warm, but were also fairly sturdy. After a bit of searching, I found a small, glassy pool, turned silver in the moonlight, and bent over it to see my reflection. The tunic looked nice on me, and fit well. I guess I'm pretty enough, though the prophecy was exaggerating when it said that 'none is fairer than she.' Other than that, it had described me pretty well. I had long, swirling brown hair, pale skin, and blue eyes. I was shorter than most elves, but still had a slender build.

However, my usually soft hair was now caked with blood, and there were even a few drops of blood on my face. I'm no used to dealing with blood, and felt sick to see it on myself. I dunked my head into the icy water of the pool, and scrubbed at my hair and face for a good while, wiping off the sweat and blood that had accumulated there. It was silent underwater, and I relished the cool calm of the pool. It was different than the silence in the forest, totally removed from the outside world. But the water was quickly turning a nasty reddish- brown sort of color, and I had to remove myself from the pool. Drying my hair off with the bag my clothes had come in, I headed back to camp.


	4. Flames and Shadows

Dasalain was lying out some blankets on the ground, supposedly for sleeping on. There were two makeshift beds, one close to the rock and the other right outside the shrubberies that surrounded the cave. I went and sat down on the blanket closest to the rock, assuming that I, being the lady, would get the safest spot. Dasalain looked at me indignantly. "That's my spot!", he protested.

"Oh, I suppose **you're** just going to take the safest spot. You wouldn't want to protect **me**, of all people," I spat sarcastically.

"I'm not used to traveling with other people! How should **I** know?" Dasalain's face was reddening. It seemed the stress from today had finally gotten to him. "I've been working on this plan for **months**, and all I get for rescuing you is an argument!" I saw now that his happiness earlier had been a facade. He was trying to contain his real anger and frustration so that he wouldn't inconvenience me. How nice. But after all that, he'd told me this prophecy of his all at once and expected me to cope with it, and now this. The sleeping arrangements themselves weren't too big of a problem, but Dasalain's attitude was. Without another word, I turned and stalked off far away from camp, deciding to just sleep on the ground.

Thinking back to earlier in the day, I remembered when I asked if we could stop. His initial response was no, but then he had changed his mind. So that was when he had decided to try and act nice...interesting. Earlier, we had walked for many miles in silence, and he'd barely said anything when we left Rivendell. I'd just put it down to stress, because he acted so cordial later, but now I saw that that taciturn attitude was probably normal for him. His cheeriness **had** seemed a little forced. Hmph. Well, I'd rather have him act naturally, even if he had a quick temper, than to act like some idiotic jester. All that happiness had annoyed me. With these thoughts on my mind, I settled down on my mattress of pine needles and went to sleep.

When I awoke, it was still dark. The moon was high in the sky and I wondered what would have caused me to wake up at such an hour. In the direction of camp, I heard... yelling? What had happened? I had a sick feeling in my stomach as I rushed over to the camp. What if Sauron's Chosen had discovered the camp? But how... Then I remembered. Dasalain had lit a fire to cook the soup. The smoke would have been visible, even if the fire itself had been guarded by shrubberies. I broke into a run, but stopped just behind a tree close to the camp. I had always been a good climber, and lifted myself up to some of the tree's higher branches to get a good look at what was going on below.

I nearly fell out of the tree when I saw what was happening in the camp. Dasalain was by the fire, brandishing a torch and striking out at the orcs that surrounded him. There were maybe ten of the hideous creatures, snarling in some foul language I couldn't understand. Dasalain was shouting obscenities at them- obviously he had given up that 'polite and optimistic' act- and slowly backing up against the rock outcropping. It didn't look like either side had made a move yet. I had to do something- I couldn't just let Dasalain die at the hands of the orcs. Panicking, I shouted out his name. He looked up at me, and in that instant, an orc thrust a dagger through his arm. Even that small moment where he let his guard down had been enough for the orcs. Now they attacked him with full force, driving him back into the rock outcropping. I gasped, dismayed at his wound, and regretting the things I had said earlier. I would be no use in combat- I'd never been trained in anything of the sort- but maybe, just maybe, I could help him escape.

My plan was simple enough- I would drop to the ground, run to the back of the outcropping, grab a branch, then climb to the edge of the outcropping. After that, I would lower the branch to where Dasalain could grab it and use it to pull him out of the combat. However, this was easier said than done. When I had called for Dasalain, one of the orcs had noticed and had headed over in my direction. Now he stood under my tree, growling and brandishing a rusty piece of metal. I'd have to find some other way to the rock. In the light cast by the moon, I could see fairly well, and I saw that if I could travel from tree to tree, I could jump down to the rock outcropping and rescue Dasalain without much trouble. A branch from the next tree over protruded out to about two feet from the branch I was seated on now. I reached out to it, balancing precariously on the thin end of my branch. My fingers reached out, desperately trying to grab hold of the branch and cross the few remaining inches of air. I felt the branch brush across my fingertips and tried to get a grip on it. I inched forwards on the branch, panting from the effort of balancing so long. Then, from behind me, I heard a sound other than the snarling orc. It sounded like wood cracking. Suddenly realizing what this meant, I threw myself forward, trying to grasp the branch. But it was too late, and I fell from the tree onto the hard ground.

The branch I had been perched on fell beside me, hitting me on the arm. The wound in my shoulder must have opened up again, since small red spots were starting to appear on the cloth. I could hear the orc that had been growling at the base of the tree prowling through the foliage. Fear overcame my pain, and picking up the branch, I ran towards the outcropping, hoping to continue with my original plan. A shrub seemed to spring into my path out of the darkness, and I would've run through it, but the hem of my tunic caught on the thorns. I pulled at it, but the strong elven fabric wouldn't tear. As I desperately attempted to free myself, I could hear the orc crashing through the foliage. As it came near, several of the shrubberies surrounding our camp burst into flame, illuminating it's hideous face. I struck out with my stick, but missed and fell back into the shrub I was standing in. "Help!", I cried, trying to right myself. Another flash of fire from what had been our camp rose up. The orc staggered back from it's brightness, and I could see that the fire was spreading, coming towards me. Great plumes of smoke billowed up around the rock, and for a moment, I thought I saw a dark figure standing on top of the rock. Then smoke from the fire enveloped me, and I closed my eyes, coughing from the stench.

When I opened my eyes, Dasalain was there. He pulled me unceremoniously out of the shrub- somehow my tunic had been untangled from it- and ran off into the forest. I was hard on his heels, and we had soon left the orcs far behind us as we ran farther and farther into the night.


	5. Dawn Promise

We ran for what seemed like hours between the endless trees, in and out of the shadows, changing direction every so often to lose any pursuers. A few times I tripped over a branch on the forest floor, but I always managed to get up again. As golden streaks started to color the horizon, I tripped again and this time I couldn't get back up. Dasalain stopped and sat down beside me. His arm was still bleeding where the orc had stabbed it. I painfully pushed myself up into a sitting position. "Your arm...," I gasped. It was worse than it had looked earlier, and I saw that it would become infected if I didn't do anything. He took off his pack. I opened it and took out the bandages, then silently cleaned off his wound, wrapping it in the bandages when I was done. Dasalain looked at me. "I'm.. sorry for what I said earlier," I told him.

"It was my fault. I shouldn't have been so rude," Dasalain said. We let the subject drop then, and just sat mutely, watching streaks of pink and gold light up the sky as the sun rose. Eventually, it all faded into a uniform blue, the great dome of the sky arching above our heads. We probably should've tried to conceal ourselves from any dangers that came, but all I wanted to do after the long night was to take a nap. As the sun crept higher and higher in the sky, my eyelids began to droop, and I soon was immersed in a deep slumber.

By the time I awoke, the sun was high in the sky, and I assumed that it was about noon. Dasalain was asleep a few feet away. After a bit of looking in his pack, I found some kind of dried meat, and ate it gladly. I was hungry after the long night, but my nap had refreshed me and I felt up to traveling again. Dasalain's arm looked better- none of the blood had seeped through the bandages. Still, it was obvious that he'd have to rest for a couple days. I started to drag some branches around the small dip we were in to build a sort of wall. A tree extended over our hiding place, disguising it. If we stayed down in the dip, the casual observer probably wouldn't notice us. I returned to the flattened patch of grass that I had fallen asleep in and waited for Dasalain to awaken. I was glad he'd apologized, for it was obvious we'd be in each other's company for quite some time and I didn't want to have to be in a perpetual argument. I really did regret the things I'd said to him,and hoped he hadn't been too offended.

After a while, I realized I had been staring at him, and tore my gaze away, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks. I couldn't let myself act as sentimental as I usually did. We were going to be traveling for weeks, maybe months, in the wilds. I needed to concentrate on survival, not my silly girlish fantasies. I stood up abruptly and went looking for some water. It took a bit of walking, but I eventually found a halfway frozen pond surrounded by a thicket of trees. I splashed the cold water on my face, trying to remind myself that Sauron's chosen were after us and I needed to put all my energy into trying to avoid them. I scrubbed angrily at the dirt on my face, then took off my boots and washed off my feet in the clear water. Suddenly, a voice shattered the silence. "Siskiyou? Where are you?" Dasalain must have woken up and noted my absence. I cursed myself for not leaving a note of some kind to tell him where I'd gone. Tugging my boots back on, I ran back to camp.

Dasalain looked quite relieved when he saw me. "I just went to get water. You don't need to yell so much," I said.

"Next time, leave a note or something. I was worried that the orcs had found you. Don't just go running off like that," he told me angrily.

"It's not that big of a deal. I was only a few minutes away from camp," I protested. Dasalain was angrier than I'd expected him to be. I really hadn't gone far from camp, so there was no reason for him to get upset. Since when had Dasalain cared about me anyway? He'd rescued me, but that was just to get revenge on Sauron's chosen.

"Orcs could have taken you! You could've gotten lost! So many things could have happened... and I couldn't..." He trailed off and lowered his head. His voice softened, and he took one of my hands in both of his. "Promise me you'll never do anything like that again, Siskiyou. Please." He stared directly into my eyes as he said this, and I had the strangest feeling as I looked into his deep hazel eyes.

"I promise," I said softly, in almost a whisper. I stood there for a moment, gazing into his eyes. He drew a step closer, and I remembered what I had told myself at the pond. I hastily lowered my gaze and pulled my hand out of his. "Lovely day, isn't it?", I said somewhat awkwardly after a moment of silence. Dasalain gave me a strange look.

"Uhhhh.. sure," he said, somewhat questioningly.

"It looks like we're going to have to stay here for a few days because of your wound, so I built a sort of barrier." I indicated the pile of sticks and branches I'd stacked up around our camp.

"You call that a barrier?", Dasalain inquired. I winced. It looked like he was back to his old grumpy self. I didn't want to argue with him, but that comment had hurt. I was about to spit out an angry report when Dasalain intervened. "I was just teasing you. It's alright, for someone who hasn't had any experience with that sort of thing." He smiled. It was a genuine smile, not a smirk like he'd given me last night. I smiled back. Dasalain did seem a bit snotty sometimes, but I got the feeling that he was a nice person inside. After all, he hadn't even mentioned how his wound was really my fault, since I'd distracted him during a critical moment in battle. I began to think that maybe our journey together wouldn't be so miserable after all.


	6. Phantoms of the Night

As the sun made it's slow journey across the sky, I prepared the camp for the few days we planned to stay there. Dasalain wanted to help, but I insisted that he rest and let his arm heal. I made a fire-ring in the middle of the camp, then set up our bedrolls on opposite sides of the dip. It was not very proper of us to sleep in such close vicinity, but propriety and manners didn't matter as much when survival was more important. Besides, I didn't want to be separated from him again like I was last night. If I'd been closer, I could've helped him escape from the orcs. I had promised myself that I wouldn't let something like that happen again, and I intended not to break that promise.

Finally, I finished with setting up camp and sat down beside Dasalain, who had been instructing me on how to set up the camp properly. I sighed. Dasalain had been rather untalkative since our... uh... _conversation_ earlier, and I felt decidedly lonely. "So... where did you live before you joined Sauron's Chosen?", I began. He was unresponsive. I tried again. "You have any family?" No response. "What's your favorite food?" Okay, that question was a bit ridiculous. Still, he could've been more talkative. He looked up at me.

"I just need some peace and quiet," he muttered angrily, and walked off into the woods.

"Fine. If that's the way you feel...," I grumbled. He was so nice earlier, but now he couldn't seem to choke out even a single polite word. He had been very forward earlier, but that didn't mean that he had to be shy now. There must be something else... I frowned, racking my braains for an answer. Hugging my knees to my chest, I rocked back and forth, wondering what had got him so upset. I just sat there for a bit, thinking of his strange words to me earlier in the day. _'Promise me you'll never do anything like that again, Siskiyou. Please.' _What did he mean? He'd started to say that he couldn't... something, but he had cut off. What couldn't he do? Dasalain was a mystery to me still. I thought of his beautiful hazel eyes, so close to mine... then I shook my head, trying to push away such silly thoughts.

Suddenly, I was startled by a hand on my shoulder. I jumped, then sighed in relief when I noticed that it was only Dasalain. His skin was pale and his eyes wild. What had scared him? "What happened to you? You look like you've seen a ghost!", I exclaimed. Even when he was surrounded by orcs in the battle last night, he'd never panicked. But now...

He looked directly into my eyes for the second time that day, his eyes intense. "Listen to me. This is very important. Did you see anything... out of the ordinary at the battle last night?" I sat there, dumbfounded, for a moment. "Answer me!", he demanded, shaking my shoulder.

Frightened, I thought back to last night. There had been something... I recalled the mysterious figure in the smoke. "There was- well, it was probably just a figment of my imagination- but I thought I saw...no. It's impossible."

"Tell me," Dasalain insisted, sitting down beside me.

"I thought I saw a dark figure in the smoke. He was standing on top of the rock outcropping, but then the smoke billowed up again and it was gone," I burst out. The sight had frightened and confused me, and I was loath to talk of it. Dasalain stood up and turned away. "Dasalain? Dasalain? What's wrong?" He turned to face me.

"Nothing... just... be careful, please. I'll keep first watch tonight." Strange. He'd never mentioned having to keep watch before. I wondered what had happened in the woods? Had he seen one of Sauron's raiding parties coming to get us? Perhaps. But he hadn't been shocked when the orcs came last night... it must be something more than that. I didn't ask about it as we sat silently at dinner, but the issue seemed to hang heavily in the air. I moved my bedroll closer to the fire, uneasy after what Dasalain had said. Sleep was long in coming, and I welcomed even the restless, flighty sleep I got.

Dasalain woke me silently at what I guessed to be about midnight. I took his place by the fire, every sense alert and looking out for any sign of danger. Dasalain seemed to be soundly asleep, so I was left to my own devices. He had covered the fire with a tentlike sort of thing made out of sticks, but I could still feel it's warmth on my back. I tilted my head back to look up at the stars. They glittered coldly , unreachable in the heavens. It was a clear night, with no clouds to block the starlight.

I felt a pang of homesickness as I remembered the many lonely nights I had spent in Rivendell looking up at these same stars. Same stars, different people, different place... Why couldn't I just go back home? I felt a tear come to my eye, rolling down my icy cheek and onto my neck. One tear became a flood of tears, and I put my head in my hands and sobbed for all I'd left behind in Rivendell. My sister, Raina, who would always come to the kitchens to me to help me find pastries, my best friend Lostariel, who helped me with my drawings, Father, who always knew just what to say when I was upset... the list went on and on. Many of them had probably died in the fighting. I remembered Lostariel, a smile never far from her face. I could almost see her, sitting in the garden and holding a sketchbook. I cried harder, my tears soaking into the tunic Dasalain had found for me.

Suddenly, a rustling noise interrupted my sobbing. I looked around the camp. Dasalain was still soundly asleep- it hadn't been him. "Wh...Who's there?", I asked in a shaky voice. There was no response, but sounded like someone- or something- was moving around our camp. _Perhaps it's just a deer or something_, I reassured myself. We were in the woods, after all. Nevertheless, I huddled closer to the fire, my eyes scanning the surrounding woods. There! I saw it- a flash of movement, alarmingly close to the camp. Whatever had moved faded into the shadows, but came out again in a moment. This time I could see it more clearly before it dissapeared again. In the faint starlight, I could just make out a man's silhouette, moving quickly between the trees. My heart dropped and I just barely managed to suppress a scream. I crawled over to Dasalain as quickly and silently as I could and tapped him on the shoulder. His eyes snapped open and I put my finger to my lips to indicate silence. "There's someone moving around outside camp," I whispered.

Dasalain sat up slowly and inched over to the fire. I pointed to where I'd seen the figure last. He picked up his quiver and knocked an arrow to his bow, pointing it at the tree I'd indicated. I saw movement again, this time just a few feet from our camp. Dasalain's bow swiveled to point to the mysterious figure, but it fell into the shadows before he could shoot. "Show yourself!", Dasalain called. There was no answer but an eerie sort of cackling that seemed to echo around inside my head. I covered my ears, but couldn't seem to block it out. The tree which the mystery invader had been hiding behind burst into a pillar of yellowy- orange flames. I shrieked and shielded my eyes against the suddenly bright light. A shadowy figure stepped out from behind the flames. Shrouded in plumes of smoke and illuminated only by flames, it bore an eerie resemblance to the figure I had seen in the smoke of last night's battle. It laughed, then spoke in a deep, melodious voice. "You can't win against me, Dasalain." The being laughed again and was engulfed in another great billow of smoke from the burning tree. When I looked again, it was gone, and the fire from the tree had started to subside.

"What was that... thing?", I asked Dasalain, choking on smoke from the fire.

Ignoring my question, Dasalain merely said, "I'll go get some water. We need to put out the fire before the orcs see it. He ran into the forest, leaving me alone by the fire.


	7. I am Siskiyou

I sat down and shivered. What if that thing was still here? My eyes flicked from side to side nervously as I scanned the campsite for any signs of it. I should probably call it a _he_ now- that much had become evident when I saw him. He had been broad shouldered, with flowing black hair and a cloak that swirled around him, but I couldn't tell much else in all the smoke. Was this being what had caused Dasalain so much worry earlier? But how could Dasalain have met him in the woods? Whatever he was, the mysterious person did know Dasalain's name...hmm. And why had Dasalain left me sitting in the middle of camp with no protection whatsoever?

As I was pondering these things, I heard someone crashing through the foliage. My head snapped around to see Dasalain approaching the camp, a bucket of water in tow which he promptly splashed on the tree, putting out what little of the fire remained. I stood up shakily, glaring at him. "I have a few questions," I began angrily, but he held up his hand to stop me.

"They can wait. Right now, we need to move our camp." I let out a small gasp.

"But... your arm..," I exclaimed. There was no way we could travel without straining it, which would just make the wound worse. "No. It'll just make things worse. We're not moving camp," I stated firmly.

"Orcs for miles around will have seen that smoke. They'll be here by morning at the latest. We need to move. I'll worry about my arm once we're safe," he said in a frustrated tone of voice, gesturing at the burning tree.

He did have a point, but I still didn't want to leave camp. "Where will we go? We can't just camp in the open again. It's so easy to travel through these woods, for the orcs as well as ourselves, and they'll find us soon enough. With all these injuries, we're traveling slower than they are. You speak madness!"

"Then what do you suggest we do? I have a plan. Just trust me," Dasalain said wearily, throwing me a bag to carry and stomping out our fire. "Let's leave and get a headstart on the orcs."

"Alright," I said resignedly, trudging out of camp behind Dasalain. "At least tell me where we're going."

"An old friend of mine lives a little ways into the foothills of the Misty Mountains. If we can reach her dwelling, we should be safe," he explained. "It's very well-disguised."

I raised an eyebrow. "And by that you mean...?"

"It's very well-disguised," he repeated simply. Seeing that I wasn't going to get any more information out of him, I stopped talking. He surprised me then by actually starting a conversation himself.

"When you told me your name, I didn't comment on it because there were more important things to talk about. But now, thinking back on it, Siskiyou seems like an unusual name for an elf." He was right- It certainly wasn't a common name.

"I'm an unusual elf," I countered. There was a silence. He didn't say anything more, but I could tell that he was curious as to what I meant. Falteringly at first, I launched into the story of how I got my name.

''When I was born, I was weak and many of the elves who were helping take care of me thought I would die. My mother refused to accept this, but my caretakers finally convinced her to take me down to the sea. It's a tradition where I come from to put a baby or young child who is on the verge of death in a basket in the sea. If the waves take them, they are too weak to live and will pass away. But if the waves wash them back up onto shore, then they will live. My mother was loath to do this, but she couldn't ignore ancient traditions. I was pushed out to sea in a basket while my mother prayed for the valor to spare me. She'd closed her eyes and was deep in meditation and prayer. When she opened them, there was a basket floating in the water but no baby. A few minutes later, they found me laying in a patch of siskiyou flowers. My mother named me after them."

Dasalain gave me a wondering look. "You must be incredibly strong, to swim to shore at such a young age."

I looked down at my feet shyly. "I'm not, really. I'm actually very weak."

"But then how...," Dasalain inquired, a question clear on his face.

"I'm just very stubborn. The siskiyou flower grows in the most inhospitable of environments, hanging on to cliff faces and blooming in scree fields. It always pushes stubbornly through the worst of weather and the rockiest of soil. Like me, it has an inner strength- but you'd never guess it by looking at the delicate flower." I smiled at Dasalain. "Even though it's an unusual name, and I was mocked for it when I was younger, I'm proud to be named after such an extraordinary flower. I wouldn't give up my name for anything in the world."

He smiled back at me. "Truly, the name suits you. I wouldn't change it if I were you, either."

I was surprised. A genuine compliment? From Dasalain? That was interesting. I blushed and continued to look at my feet as we walked along towards the mountains that loomed ahead of us. The land became more barren and rocky as we ventured further and further up towards the mountains. A creek wound through the tundra- like expanse, babbling contentedly as it flowed down. In the sky, I could hear the shrill call of what was perhaps a hawk. It was a nice day for travel, and I smiled as I walked along. Conversation was nonexistent- Dasalain was walking at a fast pace, and the high altitude made it hard to breath. Still, I was content, despite everything that had happened, everything that was happening. For the moment, I just reveled in the peace and quiet of those few precious hours.


	8. The Hut of Baba Yaga

By the time we reached the trees, it was almost dark. A faint ghost of dusk still lingered in the air, tiny wisps of pale grey fading into the blackness of the night. Despite my tired feet, tousled hair, and the events of the past couple of days, I was content. We were going somewhere safe, somewhere _well-disguised, _somewhere where Sauron's chosen wouldn't find us. And perhaps we'd rest there for a while, letting our wounds heal. I stared up dreamily at the brightening stars.

I was snapped out of my reverie abruptly as I ran into Dasalain, who had stopped suddenly. "Why'd you..." I started to ask the question, but trailed off when I saw what he was staring at. There in the soft, loamy earth were three large gouge marks, made by some beast with large claws. I gasped and stepped back. Dasalain put a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"It's nothing to be concerned about. In fact, these tracks were just what I was looking for," he explained nonchalantly, setting off after the tracks.

"Shouldn't we be heading away from the tracks?" I followed behind him, my eyes wide and alert for any sight of the fearsome beast.

Dasalain laughed. "No, I'm definitely going the right way." He pulled a torch out of his pack and lit it, driving away a little of the encroaching darkness. I saw the tracks more clearly now- whatever made them had been moving very fast. Here and there, there were places that the beast had slowed down, stopped, and then changed direction. The tracks were more defined in these places- birdlike, with three toes. Almost like chicken tracks. Dasalain knelt down to get a closer look at one, running his hand over it. A grin broke out on his face and he set of at a faster pace, almost a jog.

Turning back to me, he called, "Hurry up, Siskiyou! We're almost there!" I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to go 'there', wherever it was, but he left me with no choice, so I followed.

After a few minutes of running, Dasalain held up his hand, indicating that I stop. I did so, and upon looking at the ground, noticed that the tracks had stopped. He held the torch up high, turning around and scanning the trees. That was when I saw it. A house in a tree, or so it seemed. It was a quaint little cottage, albeit a bit rundown. The placement of the two windows and the door gave it the appearance of having a face. "What a cute little..,"I began, trailing off when I saw what supported the cottage. It stood on two monstrous chicken legs, bent slightly at the knees, with enormous clawed feet. I shrieked loudly, not caring who heard.

Dasalain turned around sharply, then seeing the cottage, patted me on the back. "This is the house of the friend I spoke of. I suppose it does scare some people, the first time they see it..." He smiled amiably at me. All I could do was stand there, my mouth hanging open. This was the house of … his _friend_? But I didn't have time to react. As Dasalain had been speaking, the house's door had opened, warm firelight spilling out into the dark woods, and smells of something tasty cooking wafted out. An old woman, short and hunched over, poked her abnormally small head out of the door. Her face was creased with wrinkles, and more than a few warts dotted her absurdly large nose. Grey hair floated in wispy clumps around her head, the kerchief she wore having little success in containing it. She was rather pudgy, and I was sure that it wasn't just the shawls she'd wrapped around her ample girth.

Pushing her large round spectacles farther up on her nose, she squinted at us, and grumbled in a rickety old voice, "Who goes there?"

Dasalain waved a hand at her in greeting. "You know full well it's me, Yerba."

She relaxed, drooping over farther than she was already. "Oh, Dasa, is it? Well, come in, come in." Squinting again, she seemed to notice me for the first time. "You can bring your friend too, I suppose." Turning her back to us, Yerba ventured back into the cottage, then reemerged with a rope ladder. Securing it to pegs on either side of the doorway, she then pushed it out of the cottage. It uncoiled, the bottom rung landing at our feet.

"Ladies first." Dasalain gestured to the ladder. When I stepped back a bit, he gave me a friendly shove forwards. "It's just Yerba. What are you afraid of?" Gulping, I touched the ladder gingerly, daring to set a foot on it when my hand didn't turn to dust. Eyes wide as dinner plates, I made my way up the rest of the ladder. The wood of the rungs was smooth, as if it had seen many hands and feet before this. When I finally reached the top of the ladder, I pulled myself nervously over the threshold. Yerba stood at the back of the cottage, stirring something in a large cauldron. I observed my surroundings.

Small glass bottles lined every shelf, some filled with murky substances of questionable origin. In the corner was a keg of what looked like rum, but I couldn't be sure. A table, stained and pitted, stood in the center of the room, surrounded by four chairs of different kinds, and one stool. The floor was made of rickety wooden floorboards, some popping out. Many were warped, making small mountains on the floor. A carpet covered a small portion of it, quite an opulent one, but it had certainly seen better days. What might have been white horses were now covered in dirt, and it was hard to tell what the carpet had originally looked like. In another corner was chalked a pentagram, strange words written along every edge. Partially covering this was a chest, strapped shut with several leather belts. As I gazed at it, it rattled ominously. Other paraphernalia and clutter crowded the tiny room. There were two other doors, leading to where I know not, and one trapdoor in the ceiling. I gulped again. I was definitely in the residence of a witch.


End file.
